Feet Smart
by Vanille Strawberry
Summary: Brittany might wish to be book smart or even hand smart-- to be able to make those little Dutch gadgets like her uncle does--but Santana thinks being feet smart is so much better. Oneshot


Disclaimer: Glee is not mine -insert sad face-

A/N: This is pretty self explanatory really. I'm still quite taken by the idea of Brittana (only because it's so rare to see a relationship like this on TV) but I'm not thoroughly convinced that the characters are actually together in the show. I mean, are they? Do we know for sure?

I suppose that's what fanfics are for ^^

I also want to thank all the people who reviewed my last Brittana fic. I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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-Feet Smart-

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Brittany is not book smart like her little brother is, or hand smart like her uncle Hansel who can make little Dutch wooden gadgets that enthral her with their designs and compact brilliance. She wishes she was both of those things but all Brittany will ever be is feet smart.

It doesn't make sense she knows. At least Santana understands and that is enough for the blonde. As long as Santana understands her than it's all right to be feet smart.

The rest of the world only makes sense when she's moving her legs. When she dances, the people who tell her she won't amount to anything fall silent and watch her, mystified and in unified silence. She is elegant and graceful-- _smart_-- on the dance floor. Santana likes to call Brittany her 'dancing angel' when they're alone together and lying in soft patches of sunlight in bed that make them both groggy and bursting with happiness.

If Santana says those things, it means they must be true. Because the Latina doesn't bull about stuff like this. She would never dream of lying to the Dutch's face.

Brittany joined Glee for Quinn but found that Glee had accepted her for her. People nudged her into the spotlight-- just her-- no Cheerio's at her sides soaking up the limelight and disregarding this brilliant hidden talent. The Gleeks are only too happy to leave Brittany these precious moments to herself, basking in the brilliance of being a star-- of being important. (Feels good, doesn't it? Rachel says to her with a knowing grin after practice)

It does feel good. And it is a feeling that doesn't go away completely when she steps back in the ranks and leaves the spotlight to someone else for their own snatched moment. That feeling in her chest stays rooted there like a little flower slowly blooming. She tends to that flower and finds that smiles and laughter are never far away nowadays. Her feet keep moving and people start noticing.

It starts with Coach Sylvester. She somehow ends up attending a Glee practice and sees Brittany dance her heart out (because the blonde puts one hundred and ten percent every time just to feel herself having fun) and coach is flabbergasted at this unknown side of Dutchie and then the clogs in Sue's head start turning. Brittany is speechless when she is made to choose between Glee and the Cheerios a week later.

"You are going to aid me to choreograph our routines, you are going to sweat, cry, eat, breathe and possibly pee dance out of every single pore of your body. Or else you're indefinitely cut." Coach had waited a moment for the message to sink in and then smiled cheerily and told her to get out.

Thank god for Quinn's summarised version of Sue Sylvester's rants. Brittany had never been so confused and distraught in her life. All she was able to do for the next few days was mope about, laughter chocked, smiles gone and feet still. Even the rainbow stickers Tina and Kurt snuck into her locker did not make her crack a tense grin. And this worried the Glee group greatly and infuriated Santana.

So, the Latina stomped to Coach's office during lunch and might have broken some things, cursed in Spanish in a way that would make Mr. Schue grind his teeth and finally blurted that if she made Brittany choose between Glee and the Cheerio's, Santana would quit and never come back. Only the fear of losing her head cheerleader-- ruthless Santana who was a force to be reckoned with--made Sue see the error of her ways. Or, partially anyway-- because in Sue's eyes she had no errors. The best compromise Santana could muster was that Brittany still had to help choreograph four new routines by the end of the semester to keep her spot.

Brittany squealed and kissed Santana soundly when she was told the good news. ("You can go back to Glee. You don't have to choose.") And everything right was restored to the world.

Something melts over her. Understanding. As all her friends in Glee mill out of the choir room, she stays back a little and unties her hair-- ruffling it with her hand. Santana also stops at the door and lets Artie pass, wheeling out of sight and whistling as he goes.

"B?"

Brittany does not respond. She twirls in place--hair flying in lazy flicks. Santana looks out into the hallway uneasily before taking a deep breath, closing the door and untying her own hair. A dishevelled Brittany cannot help but smile softly as Santana comes forward and they stand before each other. Sunlight streams in.

They hold each other tight and break apart to dance, skip, jump and twirl their hair. Santana grabs hold of Brittany now and again to place needy kisses on the girl's neck. Brittany just giggles and spreads her arms out wide and rocks her hips from side to side. Then they are entangled in each other's arms, foreheads touching and just gently swaying to a soft beat, shuffling their feet.

It's cute really--the look on their faces. Santana has this complete lovesick expression as though she has just found her Eden, with glistening eyes and giggles accompanied by crimson blushing. All Brittany can do is beam from ear to ear and regard the older girl in absolute adoration and love. It's beautiful to watch.

"There's no music. I'm going to trip over my own feet," Santana whispers into the small space between them. Both of their eyes are half lidded so it doesn't take too much for them to close altogether when Brittany captures the Latina girl's lips in a tender kiss.

One kiss becomes, two, than three, than four until they have both lost count. They still move softly across the floor, locked at the lips and arms tightening around each other's forms.

"We don't need any music," Brittany murmurs huskily when they have parted for a moment. "I can feel it here." And she places a hand softly over her heart.

And even though it's the cherry on the fucking cheesy cake, Santana says "I love you," before Brittany dips back in for another taste.

Brittany might wish to be book smart or even hand smart-- to be able to make those little Dutch gadgets like her uncle does--but Santana thinks being feet smart is so much better. Because when they are together like this the Latina doesn't have to worry about things like music and steps-- it comes to Brittany naturally. It's the greatest skill that girl owns. After all, dancing is happiness. And they are both in absolute bliss.

They don't call it _glee _for nothing.


End file.
